I S H A

"Mumma!!!???" My voice cracked as I tore through the drawer, panic settling deep in my chest. The other piece of the anklet was gone—just like the first one, which had mysteriously disappeared years ago. My hands shook as I pushed aside scarves and trinkets, a sinking feeling gnawing at me.

It was the last gift my Dadi had given me, a piece of her love I’d held onto for years. I’d already lost one anklet, one piece of that memory, and now this—the last piece I had left—was gone too. My heart clenched at the thought. I couldn’t afford to lose it, not this one. It wasn’t just an anklet; it was a fragment of her, of us, and it meant more to me than words ever could.

“Mumma, please find me the anklet,” I cried out, my voice cracking as tears streamed down my face. I continued searching desperately, my hands trembling as I tossed things aside. Just then, Mumma entered my room. Without a second thought, I rushed toward her, wrapping my arms around her and burying my face in her shoulder.

“Mumma, meri payal... ek aakhri piece bacha tha, woh bhi kho diya maine,” I sobbed, my words broken by hiccups as a pout formed on my trembling lips. Mumma gently ran her fingers through my hair, her comforting touch doing little to ease the ache in my heart.

(Mumma, my anklet... there was last one left, I lost that too)